Behind Blue Eyes
by Darkened-Storm
Summary: Tala has always been the standout on his team. But just what goes on inside that neurologically enhanced brain of his before he goes up against Boris and the BEGA league? ONESHOT


Behind Blue Eyes

_A Tribute to Tala Valkov_

Written by Darkened-Storm

Some people think of me as a loner. I'm not sure if that's true, but it's probably the first impression you'll have of me. I don't intend to come across as cold hearted and emotionless, it's just who I am. Some people claim I have ice water running through my veins. Maybe they're right.

If people class me as a loner, then so be it, let them think that way. So what if you believe I enjoy bringing people to their knees? So what if you think I delight in other's pain? Think what you want – the truth is, I don't care. I probably don't think too highly of you either, and I intend to keep it that way.

Ordinary is not something I'm familiar with. I've never been ordinary. In fact, I'm far from it. I've always been one to excel, to keep on going when the others are dead on their feet. Even from a young age, I was running laps and pulling weights when I should have been playing with blocks. Where everyone else failed, I triumphed. My determination to succeed in the face of adversity is the one reason I've lasted this long.

I'm not saying that the rest of you don't live meaningful lives. I'm sure the kids' game is about as important to you as telescopes are to an astronaut. Don't get me wrong, I'm not giving _you_ a hard time; I'm just simply stating that my problems are bigger than a game of spinning tops.

People fail to realise that, whilst Beyblading to you was just a playground game, some of us didn't have a choice in the matter. To us, Beyblading it wasn't a hobby, it was a way of life, a means of survival in the harsh tundra of Russia. How the sport transformed from a humble game of spinning tops to a means by which one could achieve world domination, I will never understand. All I know is, at the hand of one man's greed, the harmless kids' game became my own personal hell.

When it comes to pointing the finger of blame, nobody wants to point it at themselves. Everyone would rather point the finger at somebody else than admit that they may possibly have been in the wrong. Kai, well, he blames his grandfather. Bryan, Ian and Spencer blame that deranged madman, Balkov. And Riikka – she blames our parents – how little she knows.

Deep down, I know that it was nobody's fault, but my own. It was my decision to follow Boris's every command. I could have refused, it would have been futile, yes, but I still had a choice. The truth is I was intrigued by what Boris had to offer me. The ultimate power, the supremacy was too much of a temptation.

I was the best. I defeated every opponent that I faced in the stadium, not just because he told me to, not out of fear of punishment, but because I desired to – because I was the strongest and I craved the power.

I watched as the children, the opponents I'd defeated, were taken away; beaten and left for dead. I knew it was wrong, yet for all my power, I was helpless to stop it. For all my boldness, my pride and charisma, I was helpless against him. That man, Boris held one thing over me that I would never overcome. He still had one terrible truth hidden behind those purple goggles.

He had murdered my parents.

I guess, in the Abbey, everyone just sort of gives up fighting in the end.

Why, you ask? Why would we allow ourselves to be pawns in Voltaire's game of World Domination? Simply because we didn't know any better. For most of us, there was no life outside the Abbey. We were orphans, we were the unsuspecting victims – we were what had been left behind from the poverty that plagued Russia since the collapse of the Soviet Union.

Comrade Balkov had taken us in off the streets. He had fed us, clothed us, and put a roof over our heads when we had nothing, and all he asked of us was that we work for him, that we train, we study and we excel to become the best. How could we refuse? How, when we had nowhere else to go?

I watched other children come and go. At first, I made friends with some of them. Kai, Steph; through the harsh and challenging struggle to survive, friendships were formed. Comradeship. Mateship.

But it never lasted.

Sooner or later, one by one, they would leave. Kai left to go live with his grandfather in Japan, Steph returned to Italy, Rebecca moved to Australia. Even sweet little Mia chose to leave. All of them had lives outside the Abbey walls, but me, I had nothing. The Abbey was my life, my home.

I wasn't alone however. There were others like me, others that had nowhere to go. Bryan, Spencer and Ian, my teammates. We'd been friends when we were younger. I'd grown up on the streets of Moscow with Bryan after my parent's death and shared a room for some time with Spencer. As we grew up, however, it became less about our friendship, and more about our own survival. The only person you could really count on was yourself, because in the game of life and death, everyone is a competitor.

Turning my back on companionship, I faced the world inside Balkov Abbey alone.

I was used to fending for myself. From the age of seven, I was alone. My parents died, failing to leave behind some sort of will – or even if they did, it probably ended up in the wrong hands. I don't resent my parents for deserting me, leaving me with no future but the one intended for me by my uncle. I simply don't care. I don't care about a lot of things, and parents that are long dead and buried ten feet under is certainly something I don't bother with.

Maybe I'm reading into it wrong, but none of you seemed too concerned to what happens when you've outgrown the game. Most of you will probably just go home, go back to school and get a career in an office while you grow old and grey.

For me, there's nothing to go home to. There is no home to go to. Beyblading is all I have and if I fail to become the best, then I am nothing. Nothing but a failure.

There is no second best when it comes to Beyblading.

As I grew older, I told myself that I had to look out for myself, and myself alone. I was consumed by my emotions. Hatred for those who had deserted me, for my mother and father's foolishness, for Riikka's weakness. Envy for those who had another life. And utter disregard for those that I squashed beneath my boot. I became him ... it; Cyber Tala.

Even before the genetic enhancements, I was a lost cause. I was consumed by grief, hatred and evil. Blinded by pride, conceited and longing for the ultimate power, my humanity was nonexistent.

When Boris came to me the day before my final match with Tyson, I knew I should have refused. I knew it was wrong. But I'd wanted it. I'd craved the power. All my life, I'd strived to become the best, and now, supremacy was at my fingertips. How could I do anything but seize the opportunity presented to me?

With the mental enhancements and the alterations to my neuro-chemistry, I was reborn. I was powerful, I was strong and I was the best. How then, did I fail? I was Boris' greatest achievement; a genetically altered human devoid of all emotion, save for anger and rage.

It took becoming a genetic experiment gone wrong and experiencing my first defeat to realise that I was allowing myself to be used by two of the greediest men on the planet.

I thought it was too late to turn back, to turn my life around. Riikka was dead, and I was facing a fate worse than death when I returned to the Abbey. Why then, did I not take that dagger and use it to end my own life as I'd intended.

I admit, I was out of control; acting on impulse. There's no word to describe what I felt as I looked down at my defeated Wolborg beyblade other than pure shock. I felt more defeated than any beating could leave me. And it was then, with a single act of kindness, that my life turned itself upside down.

Tyson reached out his hand to me; helped me to my feet, and commended me for a battle well fought.

Tyson, my opponent, who I'd all but tortured throughout our battle, was standing before me, shaking my hand, and telling me that I'd done a good job. After all I'd done to him and to his teammates, he still reached out his hand to help me to my feet, though I would have rather sunk through the floor.

I had lost. I cost my team the victory, and with it, Boris's hopes and dreams of glory. I'd lost it all, to an opponent, who by all means, should never have been able to stand up to the absolute power that I held at my fingertips.

Such a selfless act still puzzles me. If not for Tyson, I would never have had the courage to turn back to my team and say, "I tried."

I left the stadium that day with my head held high, though, when I returned to my team, I didn't have the heart to say anything. I knew that they would suffer for my failure, and as much as I feared for my own life, I feared for their lives too. Suddenly, it wasn't just about me anymore. Bryan, Spencer and Ian, they had depended on me, and I had let them down. To Boris, I was irreplaceable, but they, they were disposable.

We no longer had a place in the Abbey. We were failures, outcasts and we would not be welcomed back into the circle of Abbey elites. We had nothing – I realised. We were back where we started before Boris had taken us in.

And in that moment, I realised that I, as their leader, was responsible for them. But how could I lead them forward when I had already failed so dismally?

We sat together in that locker room for hours, and for the first time in many years, I felt compassionate – but even more amazing was the bond I could feel between Wolborg and I. And that bond was beginning to fill the room. We were bonding as a team, as the Blitzkrieg Boys. At that time, we were united only by fear. Friendship and trust were earned at high stakes much later.

That was when she made the walls come crumbling down around us.

I will never forget the fear I felt in my heart as that door opened, thinking it could only be Boris, finally returning to punish us.

At first, I didn't recognise her. She had grown up from the timid and shy seven year old Spencer and I had shared a room with, and had nightmares after one of Bryan's ghost stories. She had grown into quite the young woman now, and the faith she had in her friends radiated from her, filling the room with a bizarre fuzzy feeling that made me squirm.

Her name was on the tip of my tongue, a word I hadn't spoken in over four years. In the past, speaking of her would only bring to life all the memories I had repressed in the back corner of my mind. Memories of a happier time, before my sister died.

Tears streamed down her face as she stood there, looking at me and my team. "Tala," she whispered. I looked at her, my eyes wide with disbelief as it sunk in. She ran to me, and threw her arms around me, bawling her eyes out.

It had taken a while for Spencer and I to calm her down. When she found her voice, however, it was full of urgency. "We've got to get you out of here," she said.

I thought she'd gone crazy. I thought perhaps her battle against Ian and Wyborg had fried her brains somewhat, but she seemed determined. She held out her hand to Ian, and he went to her without question. He trusted her. Through all the hardships, Ian had never been the one to give up hope that she would return for us. He had only waited.

Baffled, I found myself asking her what she was doing. She looked up at me with fear in her eyes. I didn't know it then, but she was scared for us, scared of what would become of us once Boris was through with us.

"Steph..." I began, her name ringing a familiar tune as I spoke. "We can't ... Boris ..." How could I explain that wherever we went, whatever we did, he would find us. He would never let us be free ... even if that meant he had to kill us.

She only shook her head. "It's over, Tala," she said. "This is your chance. If you leave now, Boris need never know –"

I watched Bryan and Spencer get to their feet and join her at the door. I wanted to go to, but fear had me rooted to the spot. For my entire life, I'd imagined leaving that dingy old Abbey, but after my loss to Tyson, I felt so defeated and afraid, that for the first time in my life, I was unsure of what my next move would be. I had lost, not only the match, but the hope that life could ever change. I had given up.

"Tala, please..." she begged.

I could only shake my head. The look on her face as I said; "It's no use," will never leave my mind. But she was determined to save me. Determination is something I will always admire, yet never understand, in that girl. She never gives up. She had the determination to fight for what she believed in.

"Please," she whispered. "Come with me. Your teammates need you."

I remember looking around the room at my teammates. They were looking back at me, waiting to see what I would do. I believe it was then that I first realised that they were looking to me for guidance, that they wanted me to lead them. I guess it was also then that I first decided to take the initiative, that it was time to stand up to my oppressors. It was time to stop them ruling my life.

I knew that my failures had affected my friends, and for that, I was determined to make amends.

"Where would we go?" I had asked.

Her reply scared me, as I know it scared Bryan, Ian and Spencer. Her eyes lit up as she spoke. "Australia," she said. "With me."

My life changed forever at that very moment she took my hand. With Dickenson's help, she smuggled me and my teammates out of Russia and led us towards our new life.

It was a long road to freedom. We spent one year on the run, moving from place to place, never settling in one place for more than a month or so. Money wasn't an issue when we had Dickenson looking out for us.

I may be stubborn, I may be unsociable, but I have never once failed in my duty to my team, the Blitzkrieg Boys.

Once, we were the Demolition Boys, a team that wasn't even a team. We were simply individuals thrown in together because we were the best and told to win, no questions asked. Me? I was named captain, not because of leadership qualities, or because I was the best suited for the job. I was named captain simply because I was the best of the best.

Over the past three years, I had led my team across the globe, training them hard and relentlessly, our eyes on a common goal that was drawing ever so near. Now, with the World Championships far behind us, our day of destiny was approaching.

The day we would finally confront Boris and expose him for everything the he was. Evil.


End file.
